Too Tired To Fight
by princessofthedeadsheep
Summary: AU Dr. Reid has resigned himself to the fate of arriving home to discover all manner of things from his former boss and current stalker Aaron Hotchner. This, however, is the last thing he expected just short of Aaron himself in his living room.


**So this is something that popped into my head while reading another Stalker!Hotch story. I can't find it for the life of me, it was called the hunter series, I think, and for some reason it seems to have disappeared. If anyone knows what happened to it, let me know. I'd like to read it again if I can find the darn thing (update: it has been found). At any rate, this can be seen as either an extension or a completely different piece. Since I can't find it, most of the references that'd be similar are subconscious. Except for the rose thing. I liked the symbolic idea behind it so I kept the rose in, though I decided not to say the color (white, in the other fic). The color is whatever you want it to be, have fun. Personally, I like the symbolism behind the yellow, but you can go ahead and pick your favorite.**

**I may continue this, or at least add a part or two. I don't know. If anyone has any thoughts about what you think I should do, go ahead and let me know.**

Dr. Reid was downright resigned to coming home to random surprises, left by his former boss and current stalker, Aaron Hotchner. He was so used to it that seeing the note and the rose on his table was not even remotely surprising. What was surprising was that on the couch beside them lay a sleeping child, dressed a bit raggedly and looking tired. She was so motionless that for a moment he thought she was dead before he caught the slight movements of her chest as she breathed. This was a great relief, as he had no strength to deal with finding a dead girl in his apartment. He had just finished with a tough, grueling case and he had not slept for nearly a full forty eight hours. Deciding that he would deal with this in the morning, he put a blanket on the sleeping girl than went to his own room where he happily fell onto the bed and fell asleep immediately.

The next morning, when confronted with the girl, who was no longer sleeping but rather situated on the couch curling inward looking wary, he found himself asking a number of questions. For instance, why had Aaron left her here? Where had he found the girl? Spencer was not blind. He could see the resemblance between both himself and Aaron in the girl. Her eyes were the same color as his, her mouth and nose resembled his own, with her chin and cheek structure mimicking Aaron's. No he wasn't stupid. He could guess. But he hoped to the high heavens that the girl hadn't been kidnapped.

"Papa killed my other father." She said quietly breaking the silence that had not been changed as he contemplated these things in his mind, as he fell easily into her silence, making him jump slightly. She had a calming voice that reminded him of the late Haley Hotchner.

"Papa?" he asked. She just pointed to the rose and card, her movements oddly stiff and designed to make her look as small as possible. Picking them up, he looked at the card, and read the message his stalker had left for him.

_Dear Spencer,_

_While I was working I found this little one in the clutches of an evil incestuous pedophile. I gladly took her off of her father's hands... You will probably hear of his murder later. Luckily, that won't interfere with your adoption of our daughter. I have everything set up, you just have to sign and she'll be ours. Look at her, she's practically ours already, wouldn't you say? Normally I never would have done this, but, I just knew destiny had meant for this to happen._

_With Love, _

_Aaron_

Spencer looked at the folded papers tucked into the card that he'd missed the night before. He flipped them open and he discovered that they were indeed adoption papers, that Spencer had no doubt would go through and make him this child's legal guardian if he left it all to Aaron. He put them away for a little while, determined to spend some time with the girl before he made any permanent decision on where she would remain.

She was quiet, talking rarely, but very competent. She cleaned up after herself, and silently offered to clean up after him as well. He didn't let her, not really wanting her to fall into the habit. After breakfast, he told her she could read any books she wanted, and he noticed she had a fascination with mysteries, past, present and future. She even seemed to be reading high school level books with little trouble, despite the fact that Reid would place her age around ten or eleven. He asked her if she'd had any formal schooling.

"Oh... I attended up until the sixth grade. Father pulled me out after that. He figured reading and writing would be all I needed. I worked around the house, have been for about a year."

"How well did you test in reading?" he asked.

"Oh... I'm not sure," she frowned. "I believe it was eleventh grade or so." The conversation died down after that, as the girl became absorbed in a book on Lizzie Borden and the murder of her parents.

Later, when both had roused themselves from their reading, Reid went to the kitchen and found the girl following. She gestured to the cabinets when he realized she was there. "Let me cook. I'm quite good. And you don't have a lot of food. I'm used to cooking like that." Reid relented slightly; he allowed the girl to cook some of the food, though he took over whenever he felt she was going to do something that might be dangerous, and he supervised the whole time.

Her movements were crisp, practiced, relaxed. Though her body was a bit stiff from what he would guess were nerves or injuries, it didn't stop the flow of her movements as she cooked. The meal was good, though simple. The girl was twisting her hands over her plate, staring out the window of his apartment to the street below.

"What are you so nervous about?" Her head jerked over to him, surprise in her expression as she dropped her hands. "I won't hurt you."

"Maybe not." She acknowledged. "But I don't want you to make me leave. It's safe here. I can keep you happy. I don't want to go into foster care. Papa said you would care for me but I'm not sure of you. I can't trust you. Not yet."

"Why do you call him papa?"

"He told me to. I'm to call you dad or daddy according to him. I don't mind." She frowned at him. "Do you?"

"No, not really." He lied. Though she still looked uncertain, she at least looked appeased. She nodded, returning to her meal. They finished it in silence, the girl looking off into the distance and Reid watching her.

Reid could understand her not being sure of him. He wasn't sure of her. He knew she was broken. He dealt with broken people all the time at his job. She had the deep look of someone who had seen too much far too fast and she was far quieter than any child should be. She moved with the grace and agility of a cat, the stealth and the speed. The catlike actions only encouraged that broken feeling around her. She was not a house cat- she was a stray that had been in too many losing fights. So instead of fighting, she avoided. She did not parade her scars, but hid them, hoping that there would be no reason for anyone to look her way. Her goal was to be invisible.

Reid could of course sympathize, as there were many times he had felt the same. They were different, of course, but they had both been through things they never should have had to suffer through. It bound them together. But worse it bound her to Aaron as well... and Reid knew he wouldn't let the girl go now. He would be angry if Reid even tried, and frankly, that was a battle Reid didn't want to fight.

He was already tired of fighting.

Later that night after he sent her to the guest bed, Reid took out and signed the adoption papers.

It wasn't until he saw the girl's name that he realized what Aaron had meant about destiny.

And that was how Diana Hailey Jackson became the adopted daughter of Dr. Spencer Reid.


End file.
